Cease, foolish heart, thy fond complaints,

Nor heave with unavailing sighs;

Equal is God to all thy wants,

The hungry soul Himself supplies.

Gladly thy every wish resign;

Thou canst not want, if God is thine.

Stop this full current of thy tears,

Or pour for sin the ennobled flood:

Look up, my soul, shake off thy fears,

Or fear to lose a gracious God:

To Him, thy only rest, return;

In vain for Him thou canst not mourn.

Still vex’d and troubled is my heart?

Still wails my soul the penal loss?

Lingering I groan with all to part,

I groan to bear the grievous cross;

The grievous cross I fain would fly,

Or sink beneath its weight, and die.

Sad soothing thought! to lose my cares,

And silently resign my breath!

Cut off a length of wretched years,

And steal an unsuspected death;

Now to lay down my weary head,

And lift it—free among the dead!

When will the dear deliverance come?

Period of all my pain and strife!

O that my soul, which gasps for home,

Which struggles in the toils of life,

Ease and a resting-place could find,

And leave this world of woe behind!

O that the bitterness were past,

The pain of life’s long lingering hour!

While snatch’d from passion’s furious blast,

And saved from sorrow’s baleful power,

I mock the storm, outride the wave,

And gain the harbour of the grave.

Bless’d, peaceful state where, lull’d to sleep,

The sufferer’s woes shall all be o’er!

There plaintive grief no more shall weep,

Remembrance there shall vex no more;

Nor fond excess, nor pining care,

Nor loss, nor parting shall be there!